Seo Yungyeom approached me carefully. But my gaze didn’t follow him. From start to finish, it stayed fixed on the red potion.
Seo Yungyeom perched lightly on the edge of the bed and unfolded the bedside table as quietly as he could.
There was a small click as the little tray locked into place, and then the bowl of porridge and the potion bottle were set on it one after the other. Steam curled gently from the porridge, but it didn’t register in my vision.
“You must be hungry?”
Not at all.
It was as if the sensation of hunger didn’t exist in me anymore. I couldn’t tell whether it had been categorized as pain and erased along with everything else, or whether the sheer absurdity of the situation had dulled all my senses. My stomach was quiet. It wasn’t sending any signals.
Without pulling my gaze away, I asked.
“This… what is it?”
“Abalone porridge.”
“No, not that — this.”
I tilted my chin toward the red potion. The liquid inside the glass bottle shifted faintly.
At the sight of it, a heavy, joyless smile settled at the corner of Seo Yungyeom’s mouth. An expression that was neither happy nor confident. If anything, it looked like the face of someone hesitating in front of words they needed to bring out carefully.
“You know the potions that hunters use.”
He chose his words deliberately.
“You once said you wished non-awakened people could use them too… didn’t you, Inhu?”
Me?
Seo Yungyeom continued, as if gauging my reaction.
“Back then. After closing the A-rank dungeon, in the recovery room.”
“…….”
“You said it would be nice if people without mana could be treated with potions too.”
I couldn’t say anything. I just stared at the potion.
“This is the potion I’ve been researching since then.”
Seo Yungyeom’s voice was low and careful. This wasn’t a boast — it sounded more like a confession.
The memory finally came back to me. The A-rank dungeon — more precisely, it was when a break had occurred in the dungeon called Apple Tree Fruit. The civilian casualties that day had been particularly severe.
That was why. Lying flat on my back on the recovery room floor, I had let the words drift out of me, half to myself and half as if speaking to someone.
— If people other than hunters could also be treated with potions, we could have saved more of them.
That was really all it was. Words with no weight and no responsibility behind them. Just a passing thought that slipped out.
“Wait… is it S-rank?”
The words left my mouth almost reflexively. Even I was startled by how fast they came out.
Seo Yungyeom didn’t answer right away. He lowered his gaze for a moment, then gave a very brief nod.
“…It’s still incomplete, though.”
That one line was enough.
“If we measured its grade, it would come out to roughly around that.”
My mind went blank. I immediately dropped my gaze to check the quest window.
Service Quest (3) — Consume an S-Rank Potion
Just three words written there.
Consume an S-Rank Potion. No effects, no conditions, no ingredients were explained. As always, the system was unhelpful.
If….
My heart skipped a beat.
If this counts as an S-rank Potion too… would the quest get cleared?
It didn’t make sense. This was too easy. There was no way a quest could end like this. Compared to everything I had been through up until now, this was absurdly simple.
Without realizing it, my face had gone rigid as I stared down at the potion. I hadn’t even picked it up, yet I felt as though a choice was being forced on me.
Seo Yungyeom seemed to have taken that look of despair the wrong way.
“Ah, no, it’s not like that!”
He rushed to add. His voice was a pitch higher than usual.
“Just because it’s incomplete doesn’t mean there are side effects…!”
“…….”
“It’s just that the supply of ingredients is still unstable. That’s why I called it incomplete — the effect itself has been verified.”
He continued, almost as if making excuses.
“It works properly. Really. It won’t put any strain on your body.”
I said nothing, just stared at the red potion. Every time the liquid swayed faintly inside the glass bottle, it felt like my thoughts swayed along with it.
What was the best choice I could make right now. I turned the same question over and over in my head. No answer came, and instead only exhaustion accumulated.
And in the end, I chose to look away.
“I’m sorry, but… my stomach isn’t feeling well right now.”
I had deliberately avoided his gaze when I said it, and yet Seo Yungyeom’s expression still caught my eye. His brows tightening almost imperceptibly, his breath hitching for just a moment. The face of someone who wasn’t used to putting away their hopes.
“Just one spoonful….”
He started carefully, then quickly changed direction.
“No, not the porridge. At least try the potion.”
It was a voice close to pleading. I shook my head.
But Seo Yungyeom — who had always respected my judgment — wouldn’t back down so easily this time.
“I know your stomach isn’t feeling well.”
It was a voice pretending to be calm. But at the end of each sentence, his breath was leaking out in tiny increments. It was his breathing that trembled first, not his words.
“But… a potion is different from porridge. It barely puts any strain on the stomach, and even just one sip—.”
“Yungyeom.”
I cut him off. The moment I said his name, his shoulders flinched, just barely. I didn’t miss it.
“I really don’t want to.”
It was a short sentence. Words carrying exactly that much weight and nothing more. No explanation, no reason attached. Because I knew that saying more would turn it from persuasion into a drain on both of us.
Seo Yungyeom’s lips slowly pressed shut. His jaw tightened like someone who had swallowed back something they were about to say. He lowered his head for a moment, then raised it again. His eyes wavered.
“…Why?”
It was a very careful question. Not the kind a doctor asks about a patient’s condition, nor the kind a researcher asks while explaining an effect. Simply the question of someone who had fought alongside me.
“Why do you refuse this much?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
If I clear the quest, if I survive… I might not be able to return to my original world….
How on earth could I explain that.
I dropped my gaze as if to escape. The tips of my fingers, fallen onto the blanket, had gone white. My heart beat fast for no reason, and with every breath I drew in, the inside of my chest rang hollow, as if emptied out.
That silence seemed to torment Seo Yungyeom further.
He stood there for a long time without being able to say a single word. His two hands, with nowhere to go, hovered in the air for a moment before slowly curling into fists.
“Inhu has always been like this.”
His voice sank low. The tone was closer to long-accumulated resignation than reproach.
“Even when you were hurt, even when you were in danger… you always drew a line first. Acting like someone who can’t receive help, even when you can.”
His gaze never left my face to the end. Unable to look away, unable to press me either — he just looked at me.
“When you said you were fine… I really thought you were fine. Because you kept holding on, I thought you still had some room left.”
Seo Yungyeom’s voice dropped a little lower.
“But this time… you could really die.”
The moment those words fell, the air in the room grew heavy.
I let out a short breath, like a sigh, and looked at him.
“Yungyeom.”
I continued in the calmest voice I could manage.
“This isn’t something anyone can take responsibility for, and it isn’t something anyone can choose.”
That seemed to cut straight through his chest.
Seo Yungyeom’s expression visibly crumbled. His eyes shook wide, and his lips parted slowly before pressing shut again. He looked like someone who had just heard the very sentence they least wanted to hear.
“Why… would you say that?”
He lowered his head just slightly, then raised it again. His eyes had gone red.
“Why do you talk like you’ve already given up…?”
That was the moment. Bang. The door flew open roughly.
“What the hell are you saying.”
A hard, rough voice. The air in the room shifted in an instant. It felt like one emotion crashing down on top of another.
Seo Yungyeom spun around in surprise, and I raised my head too.
Standing in the doorway was Park Taehan. His sweeping gaze landed first on the potion sitting on the table, then drove straight into me.
“What do you think you’re doing.”
It wasn’t a question.
Seo Yungyeom moved to speak, but Park Taehan had already walked in. In just two strides he was standing in front of me, meeting my eyes.
“Why aren’t you drinking it.”
“…I don’t want to right now.”
“If not now, then when.”
He stepped one pace closer. At that distance, I had nowhere to run, nowhere to dodge.
“…….”
Instead, a heavy silence was what broke Park Taehan.
“…Fuck.”
He swore under his breath. Then he reached out and picked up the potion from the table.
“Drink this.”
It was an order.
“Taehan.”
“Drink it.”
“You won’t? If you won’t, I’ll pour it in by force.”
The red bottle in Park Taehan’s hand came into the center of my vision. The liquid swayed behind the glass. For some reason, its color seemed to ripple in the exact same rhythm as my heartbeat.
“Let go.”
I said it low.
“I said let go.”
Park Taehan didn’t answer. Instead, he twisted open the cap. With a short sound, a strange smell — neither alcohol nor herbs — spread through the room. Similar to blood, but warmer than blood.
I instinctively jerked my head back.
In that instant, his other hand grabbed my jaw.
“Ugh—!”
His fingers hooked deep along my jawline and locked my head in place.
“Park Taehan, stop!”
Seo Yungyeom rushed over, but Park Taehan didn’t spare him a glance. His eyes were fixed solely on me.
“Drink it.”
This time it was less a word and more a sound close to breath.
“I said I don’t want to—!”
Before I could finish, the mouth of the bottle touched my lips. Cold glass grazed my skin.
“Cha Inhu.”
When I reflexively clamped my mouth shut, the hand gripping my jaw tightened further.
“Please.”
The next moment, liquid flowed into my mouth.
It was a very small amount. Less than a single mouthful. The instant it touched my tongue, a sensation spread that was neither hot nor cold. There was almost no taste. Instead, the inside of my throat felt like it was constricting for just a moment.
I reflexively wrenched my head hard to the side.
“Gck—!”
The liquid spilled sideways before it could go down my airway. A red stain bloomed across the bed sheet. The glass bottle rocked and knocked against the bed frame with a thud.
